


Wanted, Needed

by heffalumps



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Smut, a foray into smut, art exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 04:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12522624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heffalumps/pseuds/heffalumps
Summary: Blackwall and his Inquisitor get down and dirty at the Winter Palace.





	Wanted, Needed

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an art exchange with the incredible [@antivancorvo](http://antivancorvo.tumblr.com/) (beautiful artist, beautiful person <3). The Lavellan OC is hers, not mine. Also an adventure into unfamiliar territory (AKA smut) for me. Oh my.

They were both quiet. Conversations with them consisted mostly of dark looks, grunts and muttered curse words. 

There was one exception to their silence. Words spoken in a language all their own, in stolen moments in hidden places. It was a language born in each other’s arms, a language of sounds more than words.

Blackwall lived for these moments.

It had begun back in Haven. He had seen the Inquisitor’s eyes roam over his body and, at first, been certain he was mistaken. Harsh and unwielding as her homeland, with a quick wit and an even quicker tongue, she had a commanding presence that drew all eyes to her the moment she entered a room. Unnerving green eyes that rarely betrayed any emotion other than cold indifference; a strong jaw, so often clenched defiantly; the  _ vallaslin _ splashed across the bridge of her nose, highlighting the proud arch of her profile; impossibly full lips, soft and inviting in stark contrast with the severity of her other features - she was beautiful. Women like  _ her _ did not enjoy men like him. 

And yet, she had approached him. When that first shared night had come, their bodies had melded together, and it had been as natural as breathing. That one night had been just the first of many, each one more unbelievable to Blackwall than the last. They all began the same - with that hungry, almost feral glint in her eye. He would nod, and she would move away. He always followed after her, and then they were alone.

This time was no exception. 

Their eyes met across the crowded ballroom. Her upper lip pulled back over her teeth ever so slightly, her eyes flickered from him to the door and then back again. That one small movement sent shivers of anticipation down his spine. He nodded in recognition, taking great care that the desire suddenly coursing through his veins didn’t show on his face. She walked away and soon disappeared from view.

It didn’t take him long to follow, to fling open the double doors and enter the dark, humid night of Halamshiral. The balcony he found himself on was deserted, save for the lone figure in its corner, leaning on the white marble of the balustrade. She wasn’t looking at him, instead seeming intent on staring at the sliver of a crescent moon cresting over the horizon. In the pale light, the vivid brown of her hair washed of its color, leaving a cascade of artfully styled black curls to mar the smooth expanse of her bare upper back. Below that, the sheer red fabric of her dress plunged down to cling to her figure, accenting her slim waist, drawing his eyes ever downwards over her body. Blackwall’s breath caught in his throat. The impulse to put his hands on her, grab her, pull her to him was almost too strong to resist.

“Nahira.” Her name fell off his lips without thinking, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she merely inclined her head to the side. A tumble of curls fell off her shoulder, exposing her bare neck. That small movement shattered his resistance.

He stepped behind her, hands rougher than he meant as he grabbed her waist. His lips hungrily sought out her neck. She leaned back into him and a gasp escaped her lips as he lightly pressed his teeth into her skin. 

“I’ve wanted you all night.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, and he could feel his body rising to the barely concealed wanton desire in it.

“I want you  _ always _ ,” he breathed into her neck, sliding one of his hands up along the side of her body to tangle in her hair. He pulled her head more to the side, his teeth grazing along her neck to find her shoulder and then back again, until they found her earlobe. “I want you  _ now _ .” His voice was so husky it was almost a growl.

Nahira arched back into him in response, the soft curve of her rear pressing into him in just the right way, eliciting a low moan from deep within him. She turned in the circle of his arms until Blackwall could feel her breath ragged on his lips. Her eyes burned into his, and reflected in them he could see his own want,  _ need _ , to take her as his own, to show the world she belonged to him.

With the hand still twined in her hair, he pulled her face to his, almost crushing her lips with his own. She was just as rough, sinking her teeth into his lower lip. Her hands found his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his belt… Soon, he could hear the clatter of metal on stone as she threw his belt across the balcony. Her deft fingers returned to their task soon after, and she smiled against his lips as he groaned impatiently, feeling his blood rush downward to meet her touch. She tore open the buttons of his pants, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Nahira.” Her fingers toyed with his senses, chipping away at the inhibitions he had already been struggling to hold on to. “Nahira… they’ll see.” 

“Let them,” she whispered against his lips.

That was all it took - those two words shattered his resolve. Blackwall released his grasp on her hair, his hand sliding back down her body, over her breasts, her stomach, lower and lower… Finally, his fingers found the hem of her dress, and he hiked the fabric up to slip his hand under it. His fingers trailed across her fevered skin, higher and higher, until he hissed through his teeth, a wave of desire wracking his body at what his roaming fingers found.

A ghost of a laugh escaped Nahira’s lips; she correctly interpreted the reason for his reaction. The sarcastic smile tugging at the corner of her mouth was soon wiped away by a sharp intake of breath, indicating that his fingers had found their mark.

Blackwall grinned against her mouth, pleased by how easily she came undone at his touch. By now, he was almost as familiar with her body as he was with his own. It didn’t take long until she was squirming, held firmly in place between his hips and the cool marble of the balustrade. He lowered his head to press kisses over her collarbone as he brought her closer and closer to what she craved.

“Blackwall…” The sound of the wrong name on her lips sent a shiver through him, but he didn’t relent. “Please.” Her nails dug into his waist, desperate to pull him closer, to close the distance between them, to bring him into her.

Blackwall did not rise to her plea. He answered only by biting down softly, yet hard enough to leave a small, red mark - a mark to show he had been here, a mark to show that she had wanted _ him _ . Of all the men she could have had, she had chosen  _ him _ . The thought spurred him on.

“Fuck me.” Her words were a low growl in his ear. “I want you to fuck me.”

That proved his undoing. All thought of teasing, tantalizing, tempting was forgotten in that instant. He had to have her. He had to have her now. His other hand wrenched up the hem of her dress, and, wrapping his fingers behind her thighs, he lifted her onto the balustrade. Her legs closed around his waist to finally pull him flush against her. He could feel the heat of her bare skin against his, his pulse pounding in his ears, his heart racing. Every fiber of his being longed to thrust into her. It had been too long since they had last done this. 

Finally, Nahira reached down, guiding him where he longed to be. Torturously, slowly, he sunk into her. She threw her head back, her lips parted in a moan. Her nails raked across his back, breaking the skin through the thin cloth of his formal shirt. Pain mixed with pleasure, a surge of sensations almost too much for him to bear, and he began to move within her.

She clung to him, nails digging deeper into his back, and then her hands were in his hair, around his neck, on his shoulders, clenched into fists against the fabric of his shirt - until finally they sunk down, down, down to where their bodies were joined as one. Together, they approached bliss.

Nahira was the first to reach her peak, spasming against him with a deep, throaty moan, her entire body constricting around him and sending him over the edge. Blackwall only just managed to keep his feet and collapsed against her, his head on her chest and his breath coming out in ragged gasps. She leaned back on him in turn, pressing her lips to the top of his head in a series of kisses, surprisingly gentle and loving in comparison to her usual countenance. She ran her fingers through his hair, and he clasped her against his body, reveling in each soft, warm curve of her pressed into him.

Nahira was the first to regain her composure. Straightening abruptly, she all but pushed Blackwall backwards. He slipped out of her, his knees feeling weak but holding.

“Good. Now we may rejoin the party.” Nahira hopped down off the balustrade, straightening her dress back down over her thighs and running her fingers through her hair. “Do I look presentable?”

Blackwall, still attempting to catch his breath, merely nodded. He felt a familiar pang in his chest - no matter how many times they did this, he could never quite get used to her nonchalance afterwards.

Nahira looked him up and down appraisingly, a small smile playing on her lips. Her appearance betrayed no sign of what had just passed between them - Blackwall was sure no one would say the same about him. 

“You might do well to button your trousers.” Nahira’s tone was biting.

“Yes, my lady,” Blackwall managed to reply, reaching down immediately to do her bidding. He cleared his throat as he straightened, smoothing his beard in an attempt to imitate her casual demeanor, struggling to stem the tide of feelings threatening to engulf him.

“Good. Follow when you’re ready. We don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.” Her words drifted after her. She had already stepped in through the double doors and back to the party by the time she was finished speaking.

Blackwall stayed there for what felt like forever, leaning on the cool marble of the balustrade and catching his breath. The stillness around him suddenly felt oppressive, ominous in some way. He shivered despite the warmth of the Halamshiral night and turned to stare at the moon without seeing it, the unbidden thoughts that so often plagued his mind these days finally rushing forth. These thoughts were dangerous, he knew. She was the Inquisitor, the only hope for all of them, and he was… he was himself. And, at the same time, he was anything but himself. 

He would never admit it, but, despite the sheer impossibility of the notion, he had come to care for her. When she was with him, he wished she would never leave. Every time she walked away from him, she took his heart with her. And, in the deepest, darkest part of his heart, alongside all his other secrets - he desperately wanted her to feel the same.

And that was more dangerous than anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Naewall for adri ♥
> 
> with all my love,   
> effe


End file.
